Bringing Down the Beast
by stepstate
Summary: Felicity sure has fun making Isabel's life miserable with her talented hacking and quick thinking. This was originally written as a one-shot, but I will add one-shot chapters as plot bunnies invade my brain! :) Ratings change due to the "Rochev's Ride" one-shot (chapter 6). Oh, and Roy Harper starts assisting Felicity in chapter 6. Enjoy!
1. Chink in the Armor

**Disclaimer: **Although I'd love to, I do not own these characters and only get to play around with them when inspiration strikes.

**A/N:** It bugs me to no end that Isabel schemed and took over Oliver's company. I'm sure it could be fought in "real life," but it makes for a great plot line in Arrow this season. Still it gives me some fun creating ways to have fun at Isabel's expense.

**A/N:** This has turned into a collection of one-shots due to ideas, ideas, and more ideas invading my brain. :)

* * *

**Chink in the Armor**

**One-shot**

_What a damn commute_, Felicity thought, as she unlocked her back door, stepped into her small kitchen, and reached for the light switch. Laying down her purse, she shrugged out of her tight black pumps and wriggled her toes, one of her favorite things to do each afternoon when she got home. It had also been a hell of a commute home to her brownstone, having to endure the inevitable congestion of two fender benders as she traveled during the peak of Starling City's rush hour, and she desperately needed a mojito, heavy on the white rum.

But . . . that was the _only_ bad part of her day. Felicity slowly smiled, and it wasn't just because her feet felt better.

Working with Isabel as CEO of Queen Consolidated should have, by all rights, been sheer torture. However, she was reveling in finding all kinds of ways to make the experience worth her time and effort. Unfortunately for Isabel, she needed Felicity until she hired a suitable replacement. Felicity knew she could quit any time she wanted, but she also saw this as a prime opportunity to wipe computer files, set up tracers, bungle a few meeting dates, mismanage a few dealings here and there with stockholders, and generally anything else that would undermine Isabel's hostile takeover . . . including "violently" breaking the new coffee maker Isabel recently purchased. Oh, the list went on and on of Felicity's fun.

* * *

"_This is just until we're finished with Slade," Oliver said in a tense conversation the night he discovered what Isabel had done while he was frantically searching for Thea._

"_Add Blood to that," said Diggle._

"_Oh, yeah – he definitely made the short list we're after, all right," Oliver quipped._

_Felicity had looked at them both and said, "No problem – I can certainly put a few chinks in that _woman'_s armor." Her mind raced over her list of things she could do in the next few days at Queen Consolidated as Isabel's "doting" Executive Assistant, and Oliver and Diggle swore they could actually see wheels turning inside Felicity's head._

"_She's got zero idea of your, _um_, talent, but I've got a feeling she's about to find out."_

"_I just hope she doesn't ask Felicity for a cup of coffee," teased Diggle, his eyes crinkling at the thought as he playfully dodged a punch in the arm from Felicity._

* * *

Felicity sighed happily for what seemed the hundredth time since the disastrous conference call ended this afternoon like a plane going down in flames as she relived the interface problem she – _oops! _– created causing Isabel to miss an important interview with three of Starling City's movers and shakers.

She mixed her drink in one of the tall glasses that came in a "mojito" set Oliver had given her, taking care to muddle the mint leaves and garnishing it with a slice of fresh, pre-sliced lime that was waiting for her in the stainless steel refrigerator. Taking a long sip of her drink, the ice clinked against the glass as she eased down the hallway to the den so she could check the evening news she found so entertaining these days as the newscasters would surely be summing up the latest QC blunder Isabel unknowingly suffered at the hands of Felicity. The cool liquid felt as though it was washing the headache of the commute away. _Much better_, she thought as she started scheming tomorrow's task of dismantling QC's top-notch firewalls. Rival companies having full access to Queen Consolidated's company secrets . . . she was, after all, _a bitch with wifi_.

* * *

**A/N:** I had to borrow that line from S2E21 (I think) about the "bitch with wifi" - that was a great line for describing Felicity's prowess with computers. XD


	2. Staying in Russia -- Part I

**A/N: **So . . . I had another idea for Felicity to have fun at Isabel's expense after rewatching 2x6 recently and decided to turn this into a collection of one-shots. Here is my second offering. Please let me know how you like it by leaving a review. :)

**Staying in Russia**

**Three-part One-shot **

"What happens in Russia stays in Russia," Felicity turned away from Oliver, ". . . even when it makes no sense at all whatsoever."

* * *

Felicity turned over in her hotel bed, flipping her pillow for the hundredth time that night. She was confused about why she felt shocked and, more to the point, _upset_ about Oliver sleeping with Isabel Rochev. He didn't deny her assumption as she made her comment to him when Isabel left his hotel room, so she knew Oliver did more with Isabel than discuss the décor, lamp shades, and fabric swatches in the room.

She was a crime-fighting partner with Oliver. The problem for her, though, was that she was also his friend. She simply did not like Isabel Rochev. Nor did she trust her. It irked her beyond measure that Oliver had just slept with this manipulative woman. The man had a serious case of the can't-help-its when it came to sex. She needed to channel her feelings about this newest blunder of his. But channel them into something fun, something with her style for flair and creativity, that is. Felicity was a problem solver, and Isabel was a problem, plain and simple.

And, just like that, Felicity's brain went into problem-solving mode.

* * *

"Mr. Knyazev?" Felicity called out his name as he turned to greet her. She had contacted him and asked her to meet him on the Zverev Bridge the next morning. He was dressed for the temperature with an overcoat, cashmere scarf, and ushanka with the ear flaps pulled back.

"Da, my dear Felicity Smoak," he said, his thick Russian accent coating his words. He took her leather-clad hand, giving it a kiss. "Please, call me Anatoly. I insist. Any good friend of Oliver Queen is considered friend of mine, and I know you are good friend of his, nyet?"

"You can tell . . ." she couldn't hide her curiosity, "that we're good friends?"

"But of course, my dear. Is not obvious to you?" He looked at her and smiled. "Tsk. You should not doubt vhat I say. 'Tis very true."

They stood for a minute on the curved concrete bridge, arms resting on the ledge, enjoying the mallard ducks floating underneath them in the Vodootvodny Canal on the cold winter morning. One rather large and dominating mother duck quacked several times to get one of her ducklings back in line.

"Did you know, dear Felicity, how old is zis bridge?" His hand swept the length of the view in front of them, buildings on either side, mostly residential on the west side and mostly businesses and factories on the east.

"No, I –" she started, pulling her coat collar up a bit more on her neck.

"Well, I shall tell you. It's old. In fact, it's the oldest pedestrian bridge in Moscow. Vas built back in the 30s and is still standing strong. Just like ol' Anatoly. And I can tell you zat our mutual friend is exact reason I still stand strong. He saved me." He eyed Felicity for a second before continuing. "He is good man, and I hope he sees vhat's in front of him one day."

Felicity looked down and fished out her tablet as a distraction, hoping Anatoly wouldn't see her blush.

"Anatoly, speaking of Oliver . . . I came to you for some, er, help with him. Sort of . . ."

"I trust Oliver with my life, and he trusts you with his. Dear lady, you have only but to ask."

For the head of the Russian Solntsevskaya Bratva, he seemed to be a pleasant man – at least toward her, and she felt she could trust him with her request. She opened up her tablet cover, touched the screen a few times with her stylus and set it on the thick ledge in front of Anatoly.

"Good," she said, "because Oliver has horrible taste in women."

A huge laugh erupted like a volcano from deep inside Anatoly's belly. "Just from my time on island I know he vas always vith . . . how shall I say . . . woman on mind. So vhat about zis one?" He pointed at a picture of Isabel Rochev on her tablet.

"Her name is Isabel Rochev, and she has weaseled her way into Oliver's company, Queen Consolidated – as his equal partner. Anybody who manipulates powerful companies like that can't be trustworthy. Oliver's mother can't stand her either – and Mrs. Queen is very business-savvy."

"A mother always knows. 'Is very true." Anatoly thought for a minute and nodded. "And you vould like for me to help you with zis situation how? In vhat way?"

"Well, I would love it if you can help me delay her, um, arrival at the airport. I can take it from there." Felicity motioned at her tablet.

"Da – I understand you are good vith computers and such." Anatoly winked at Felicity. "Oliver tells me much vhen ve drink vodka last night."

"Oh," Felicity raised her eyebrows, curious again for the second time that morning. "I bet he did!" She chuckled as she put her tablet back in her bag and adjusted her scarf.

"Zis Isabel Rochev is _bis prabl'Em_. I help you vith her tomorrow."

After discussing a few more details, they parted ways and Felicity smiled all the way back to the hotel and even skipped on the busy sidewalk a time or two along the way.

* * *

After attending meetings most of the day for Queen Consolidated's subsidiary in Moscow, Felicity feigned a headache and retired to her hotel room for the evening. She washed her face, changed into pajama pants with flying toasters, a black hoodie, and hot pink fuzzy socks. Flipping through the menu on the hotel desk, she ordered room service and enjoyed a quiet meal with a glass of merlot.

After dinner, she refilled her wine and moved over to the sofa where her tablet waited patiently. She wrapped up her hair into a messy bun and adjusted her glasses a little higher on the bridge of her nose.

"Ahhhhh, Isabel Rochev," Felicity spoke aloud as she took a sip of wine. "Let's get started, shall we?" She pushed the sleeves of her black hoodie up higher toward her elbows and laced her fingers together and pushed outward into a stretch, causing her knuckles to crack. She was in full hacker mode now. Her brows furrowed, she executed her plan without a hitch as she finished her second glass of merlot before turning in for the night. Instead of tossing and turning every two seconds, a very restful sleep welcomed her this time, her reward for a job well done.

* * *

The _knock knock knock_ on her door was rather urgent the next morning as Felicity rushed out of the bathroom, her toothbrush crammed in her mouth as she unlocked and opened the hotel door.

"Felicity," Oliver's eyes met hers but then scanned her body all the way down to her hot pink fuzzy socks. "What are you doing? You're not dressed yet?"

"Nope – must've overslept," she mumbled with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Well, so did Isabel. And that never happens. That woman is never late for anything." Annoyance settled into Oliver's voice.

"My, my, my – Isabel overslept? That is quite odd." She couldn't bring herself to sound alarmed even though she knew she should try to act surprised. She had hacked into the hotel's concierge services last night and modified the time Isabel's phone alarm would ring.

The first part of her plan to get Isabel alone was working perfectly. But she needed Oliver and Diggle to leave before them.

"Hey – um, why don't you and Digg go ahead to Sheremetyevo International? Isabel and I can catch a later cab. There are plenty around."

"Wait – you called Isabel a stubborn busybody that made the 'grumpy cat' look friendly before we boarded our corporate jet to fly over here. You can't stand her. Ya suuuure that's a good thing to be alone with her?"

"Wha – ?" She sucked her teeth. "Oh, pleeeease, Oliver. No cat fighting, I promise." Felicity smiled up at him and managed a friendly laugh, hoping to put his mind at ease. It worked.

Without her usual high heels, he was several inches taller right now standing in her doorway. Oliver reached out to touch the back of her arm. "Okay – we'll go ahead and get settled in. See you two shortly."

"Roger that," Felicity gave him a half-hearted salute and closed the door.

Checking her cell phone before boarding the elevator to make sure the next step was in place, she pressed the button on the elevator panel. Her multi-step plan was running like clockwork. As she exited the elevator, the hotel lobby bustled with guests. Some were checking out, and others were leaving to catch taxis for meetings in Moscow's business sector. Isabel was standing by a massive planter near the entrance, arms folded across her chest and looking less than happy. Felicity forced her smile away as she walked toward her with her rolling suitcase.

"Are you ready now?" Isabel huffed with an air of impatience. Or maybe it was importance. Felicity had trouble determining the difference on Isabel's expression.

"Absolutely. Let's grab a cab." The two women walked out to the front and over to the line of cabs. A limo with tinted windows that would be illegal in most states back home came out of nowhere, zipping up to them and blocking the cab line. The driver threw open his door and rushed around the front of the limo.

"Excuse me, are you Isabel Rochev – with Queen Consolidated?" he asked, out of breath.

"Why, yes, I most certainly am." She glanced at the limo. "Are you here for us? We're in a rush to catch our private corporate jet."

"Yes – right this way," the limo driver winked at Felicity. Felicity winked back, knowing that Anatoly came through for her.

He opened the back door and motioned for Felicity to get in first. However, she didn't stay seated. Instead she scooted across the wide leather seat toward the other door. Isabel, preoccupied with rummaging around her purse for her cell phone, never saw Felicity exit through the other side. Once Isabel did climb inside the limo and look up to bark an order at Felicity, she realized Oliver's blonde executive assistant was nowhere to be found. She spun around just as she heard the locks on the limo doors click.

Felicity walked back to the cab line and waited her turn as she texted Anatoly to thank him for his assistance just now. She couldn't wait for Isabel to arrive at the airport after the Queen Consolidated jet took off for Starling City only to find out she would be further detained by a Russian Federation Immigration and Customs Enforcement deportation officer due to a temporary snafu in their computer system.

_Ahhhh, the joys of being a hacker_, Felicity thought as the cab drove her to the airport, wishing she could be the proverbial fly on the wall during Isabel's interrogation.

* * *

Oliver and Digg stood up when they heard footsteps on the metal stairs of the jet.

"Hi, glad you made it with time to spare," Digg said.

"Um . . . Felicity, where's Isabel?" Oliver went to the jet's doorway to look down the stairs.

"Oh, you know –" she paused until he turned back to look at her. "What happens in Russia stays in Russia."


	3. Staying in Russia -- Part II

**Staying in Russia, Part II**

**Stepping into the Ring**

Felicity punched the floor number for Oliver's office suite on the elevator panel, thankful that Isabel wasn't in her office when she left the week's listing of meetings on her desk. It had been four days since Isabel Rochev's arrival from her detainment in Russia. At Oliver's insistence, she relented and fixed the "glitch" in the computer system at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement branch of the Russian Federation once they landed back in Starling City. To be honest, she would have been perfectly happy to make Isabel sweat it out a few more days.

The doors slid toward each other but stopped short when a well-manicured hand jutted between them at the last possible second. The mechanical edge safety feature of the doors reacted causing them to inch back open to reveal a glowering Isabel. She was dressed in a red "power" suit and entered the steel cubicle.

"Hello, Felicity," she sneered, glaring at Felicity as the elevator doors closed. She reached out to press the emergency stop button with a freshly painted red fingernail, never taking her eyes off the blonde.

"Looks like you treated yourself to a manicure after your, um, detainment," Felicity smirked.

Isabel snorted. "I'm about to treat myself to a lot more. Don't think I don't know you were somehow behind that ruse."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Felicity said. "And the last time I checked, executive assistants didn't have control over Russia's immigration policies in their job descriptions."

"Nevertheless," Isabel's eyes focused on Felicity's short skirt as she released the stop button on the elevator panel, "I hold you responsible." She leaned toward Felicity and gritted her teeth. "I don't know what Oliver Queen sees in you, but he's about to see a lot less."

The steel doors parted and Isabel moved toward the opening. As she crossed the threshold, the stiletto heel of her black patent leather pump dipped down deep into a metal groove in the door sill. Isabel lost her balance and started to fall backward into the elevator toward Felicity.

Her reflexes taking over, Felicity pushed her by the shoulders. Isabel lurched forward and landed in a heap on the cold marble flooring outside the elevator doors, her pump detaching itself from her foot in the process. Felicity reached down and jerked the spiked heel out of the groove and tossed it out to Isabel's crumpled figure as the doors closed.

* * *

Felicity managed to forget mentioning the incident to Oliver and Diggle. She went about the rest of her day catching up on business matters. They were only gone for two business days on their trip to Russia, but it felt like two years with all the requests she had to handle since their return. Being Oliver's executive assistant, she was the primary point of contact for all essential matters pertaining to his position, and she busied herself returning phone messages and preparing and editing correspondence.

Only when she took a quick coffee break, which involved going to a different floor since Oliver's coffee machine was violently broken recently, did she bother to think about Isabel's parting shot at her in the elevator: _I don't know what Oliver sees in you, but he's about to see a lot less. _It wasn't like Isabel could fire her, so she didn't quite understand the threat.

* * *

Felicity looked up at Oliver as he walked toward her desk.

"Hey – 'bout ready?" he asked. It was almost 5:00, and he was shrugging on his suit jacket.

"Yep. Just checking e-mails one more time before I shut down." Felicity clicked on Outlook and scanned her inbox. She was about to click out of Outlook when one e-mail caught her attention. It was from Rochev. The subject heading made her right eyebrow rise above the rim of her glasses.

_From: Isabel Rochev_

_To: Queen Consolidated, all employees_

_Subject Heading: Policy Update on Workplace Attire_

_Effective Monday week ALL female employees shall adhere to wearing skirts (or dresses) no more than three inches above their knees. Failure to comply will result in termination of employment at Queen Consolidated._

"Felicity – what's wrong?" Oliver would have to have been blind not to notice the reddening in her cheeks and the stiffening of her posture.

Diggle came in at that moment to confirm their plans for the night. He took one look at Felicity's expression and walked around her desk. Looking over her shoulder at the monitor, he let out a low whistle and shook his head.

Curiosity got the best of Oliver, and he peered over the desk now. "What is it?" he asked again.

"Oh," Diggle said, coughing into his fist to suppress a chuckle, "just Isabel moving her chess piece."

Felicity shut her computer down, grabbed her purse and tablet, and stormed out the door. Oliver opened his mouth to say something but Diggle reached a hand out to his shoulder and shook his head.

"Nah, man," Diggle advised. "Stay clear until she works off some steam."

* * *

Diggle knew where Felicity would be. And he was right – she was in the lair. But he was wrong about what she would be doing. Instead of working the keyboard of one of her trusty computers, she was working the punching bag he and Oliver used for training.

"You okay?" He walked up to her and put his hands on either side of the punching bag to steady it.

She looked at him. "No," she breathed as she delivered another punch to the bag.

Diggle held the bag as she struck it. She punched, pounded, and jabbed. Diggle was impressed Felicity remembered some of the moves he had shown her in the training sessions they'd had. Fatique finally found its way into her body, and she rested her forehead against the cool leather of the bag. Diggle came around and placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbs moving in a circular motion below the base of her neck.

"Your abs will be sore tomorrow," Diggle said.

Felicity gave him a small smile, breathed deep, and let it out slowly. "I'm not mad at her."

"You're not?" Diggle asked, patting her on the shoulders and moving around to look at her. "Could've fooled me."

"I'm mad because I didn't see it coming and should've."

"Come again?"

"It's like I'm back in middle school, and not just because of the damn dress code thing." Felicity rubbed her reddening knuckles. "I gotta remember to put gloves on next time."

"What do you mean – about the middle school thing, not the gloves –"

"Well, I was always so much smarter than everyone I tried to hang around in school. I didn't really fit in with the geeks because I was stylish. I liked cool clothes and trendy nail polish and jewelry."

"Still do." Diggle smiled at her.

"Yeah, well . . ." Felicity huffed. "The cool kids I wanted to hang with back then may have appreciated my style, but they sure as hell didn't appreciate my brains. Or my knack for speaking my mind."

Diggle nodded, sensing where this was going.

"So . . ." she started.

". . . you never fit in either group."

"Nope. Which is one reason I like our 'team' so much. You guys accept me for me, no questions asked." She sighed. "Anyway . . . dealing with Isabel is like . . . being back in middle school all over again. I can't win."

"Well, now there I beg to differ." Diggle turned back to the punching bag and unleashed a quick flurry of combo punches. "You stepped into the ring with Isabel and just need to use the sweet science of boxing."

"The wha – ?" Felicity looked at Diggle.

"Sweet science – that's what they call strategy used in boxing." He worked another combo on the bag. "And if anybody knows science, it's you."

"Yeah, but – "

"No buts, Felicity." He turned back to her. "She is sizing you up and wants to see what you're made of. She's thrown a punch and you need to throw a counterpunch." He paused. "Something that fits in the realm of what she did to you."

Felicity's eyes lit up. "You mean let the punishment fit the crime."

"'Xactly. Now you're getting it. You gotta work the jab and set up a good counterpunch to her e-mail directive."

"Thanks, Digg!" Felicity reached up on her tiptoes and kissed Diggle's cheek.

"Anytime – go get 'em, Tiger." And with that, the wheels in Felicity's brain were in motion.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so this particular one-shot has become a three-chapter one-shot thanks to one you guys commenting that you wanted to see what happened next and how Felicity got out of trouble for Isabel's detainment. I hope to post the last installment later this week.

**A/N:** As always, thanks for taking the time to read my stories - and for leaving any feedback you may have. Oh, and you can still leave a comment even if you don't have an account. :)


	4. Staying in Russia -- Part III

**Staying in Russia, Part III**

**Work That Skirt**

Isabel Rochev's e-mail quickly gained status as the most hated e-mail that year. It also garnered her several award-winning nicknames like "Isa-bitch" and "Dress Code Diva". Felicity arranged her schedule to eat with a few of her girlfriends in the IT department the next day to catch up on all the delicious gossip regarding Isabel's directive.

"Omigawd," one of her friends said as they were finishing lunch. "We're having such a good laugh."

"Yeah, and it's all at Rochev's expense!" Peals of laughter erupted among the group.

But even better, it provided the seed for the perfect plan to germinate in Felicity's mind, a plan that followed Diggle's boxing metaphor from earlier in the week. By that evening, she had her "counterpunch" to Isabel's dress code directive. She had thought of a way to make the punishment fit the crime, and Isabel was about to pay.

* * *

Oliver and Sara were out patrolling The Glades. Diggle was upstairs helping Roy out in Verdant. And Felicity was at her command center.

At first glance, it looked like she was navigating GPS and updating profiles on newly released criminals from Starling City's prison. A more thorough inspection, though, would uncover her real intention for the night.

"Ha – that didn't take long," Felicity said aloud, noting on her laptop clock that she accessed Isabel's expense account at QC in under eight minutes. She'd already laid the groundwork for hacking into the QC mainframe earlier in the day while Oliver was in a shareholders meeting.

Looking over her monitors and behind her at the metal stairs, she checked to see that she was still alone before embarking on her counterpunch. She opened a new internet window on the monitor next to her and typed "Nordstrom" into the URL bar.

Felicity figured if she needed longer skirts and dresses that she may as well buy from Nordstrom, one of biggest upscale fashion retailers in the country. And she thought it was an especially nice touch for Isabel Rochev's expense account to pay for the new wardrobe.

Going straight for the high-end brands, she searched the Nordstrom site for Marc Jacobs. Several skirts popped up, and she selected the first one she saw. It was a black and white Italian cotton-blend piqué in a bold tropical print.

"Ooooh, $685 regular price . . . what a steal!" Felicity couldn't help but commentate as she selected items for Nordstrom's online cart.

She kept searching the Marc Jacobs line and found an A-line striped skirt. "Just $1100 – and an exposed back-zip closure. I love those!" She clicked her mouse. "I think it needs me."

_Click . . . click . . . click._

Oscar de la Renta . . . _click_. RED Valentino . . . _click_. Donna Karen . . . _click_.

Several clicks and just as many minutes later, Felicity was about to check out with Isabel's expense account number when one last item caught her attention. At a mere $297, it was hardly worth the trouble since Felicity wanted to make a point to Isabel. However, it was an Alice + Olivia A-line skirt featuring a graphic print of several adorable strutting pink flamingos. She had to admit they showed up nicely against the white material of the skirt. _Click._

She opened up the online cart. Resting her elbows on the table, Felicity tented her fingers as she admired the pricey and very fashionable selections.

"Time to check out –"

"Check out what?" a voice behind her asked. Roy was now helping himself to Thea in the office upstairs so Diggle's work in the Verdant for done for the night.

Felicity minimized the screen and whipped around so fast she was sure she gave herself whiplash. "Me? Nothing. Just, um, checkin' out the time." She looked at her watch. "Whoa – would you look at that? It's almost 10:00. I gotta go!"

"Oh, don't let me stop you. I think that pink flamingo skirt was made for you." Diggle winked at her. "I would ask you to fill me in on the details, but something tells me you've figured out a way to make Isabel pay."

"You don't know just how right you are, Digg," Felicity winked back.

Felicity finished up at the foundry and then headed home. She had one more task to complete before tomorrow.

* * *

Isabel slammed the phone down into its cradle, the sound reverberating in the stark office into which she'd recently moved. Her cheeks flushed as her blood boiled beneath her skin. She stormed out of her office, heels like a machine gun on the marble floor. She pulled open the door slamming it into the adjacent glass partition. Glass shattered, raining hundreds of shards to the floor. Her secretary, mouth wide open, could only watch as the category four hurricane moved full force toward the elevators.

Oliver had just finished a conference call with an investor and walked over to check on the team's plans for the night when the elevators in the hallway opened.

"Where is _SHE_?" Isabel stomped into the office, her shoulders hunched.

Felicity rose up from getting her purse out of the bottom drawer of her office desk. "Me?" She asked. "I'm right here."

Diggle motioned to Oliver to follow him out the door. "Man, we do not wanna be in there," he whispered.

"Ahhh, the short skirt scandal . . ." They decided to take the stairs so they wouldn't have to wait on the elevator and bear witness to the impending fight.

"I just got off the phone with QC's finance department," Isabel huffed. Felicity held a steady gaze to Isabel's glare. "And – and they say there was unnecessary activity on my expense account last night."

Felicity tossed her ponytail and crossed her arms, but she remained silent.

Isabel closed the distance between them in two strides. She pressed her palms down on Felicity's desk and leaned toward Felicity. "Finance thinks I ordered a bunch of skirts because of my e-mail earlier this week. They want me to pay for the bill. Out of my pocket!"

"That's too bad," Felicity stifled a yawn.

"Too bad? Too bad? I didn't order almost $20,000 worth of skirts and dresses last night." She pointed a finger at Felicity. "I think you did it."

Felicity grabbed her finger. "You know, you should go back to the salon and complain. You've chipped a nail already."

"Arrrghhhh!" Isabel slammed a fist down on the desk. "I will see you fired for this!"

"No, you won't. You'll do no such thing. Finance thinks you did it, and you'll pay out of pocket."

"I will not!"

"Au contraire. Check your phone," Felicity said, her gaze as steady as ever.

Isabel reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out her cell phone. There was a message waiting. Felicity had sent her a text when she was reaching down to get her purse from her desk drawer.

"How did you –"

"—get your number? From Oliver. Check the text."

Isabel opened the text to reveal a video. It was Felicity's turn to lean over the desk. She reached and pressed the triangle in the middle of the video thumbnail. The video played the entire episode from earlier in the week of Isabel's rant toward Felicity. It showed her stopping the elevator, yelling at Felicity, and stomping out only to trip over herself. And worse – it included audio.

Isabel's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "How –"

"That's not important, Isabel." Felicity gathered up her purse and tablet, pushing in her desk chair. "What is important is that you'll keep your damn mouth shut and pay finance."

Isabel huffed. "And why would I do that?"

"Why? Hmmmm . . . let me think." Felicity put her index finger to the corner of her mouth and looked upward. "Fortune 500 co-CEO in a controversial bid for a hostile takeover being jealous and petty toward an executive assistant. It's very incriminating. Oh, and falling down in an embarrassing heap? Why – that's the stuff of viral videos, my dear."

Felicity walked around the desk and toward the elevators leaving Isabel to stew in her misfortune.

* * *

That night after arriving home from the foundry, she saw a huge package outside the front door of her townhouse. _Thank you, Isabel's expense account, for overnight shipping_, she thought.

She skipped up the steps and brought the package in with her as she unlocked the door. A new bottle of wine awaited her as she tried on the new skirts and dresses, and she knew the Alice + Olivia skirt with the strutting pink flamingos would be the first one she wore on Monday.

She was just about to climb into bed for the night when her cell phone buzzed. Looking over at it she saw Diggle had texted her.

_Just heard from Oliver - you didn't just settle for a counterpunch - you knocked the damn bitch out...cold!__  
_

Felicity giggled and her thumbs moved over the qwerty keyboard of her cell phone in reply. _Thanks to a good boxing coach with good advice_, she texted back. _G'night!_

And with that, she plumped up her pillow, turned out her bedside lamp, and settled in for a very restful, very peaceful sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew, I hope y'all liked Felicity's counterpunch. I appreciate all the feedback - y'all sure know how to make a fanfic writer feel good! : )

**A/N:** Speaking of feedback, I would like to credit **Belle97** giving me the idea of the "knockout" part at the end. The comment she left for this chapter sparked an idea for me to go and add that into the story. Thanks so much!

**A/N:** I had so much fun looking online at skirts I would never dream of buying – and the Alice + Olivia pink flamingo skirt is a real thing. I'd totally buy it if I could afford it! :D


	5. Elsewhere

**A/N: **Although this is a one-shot, it subtly references the "Staying in Russia" one-shot from this collection, specifically parts I and II.

Enjoy – and let me know what you think. : )

* * *

**Elsewhere**

**One-shot**

"Welp, that didn't take long." Felicity had just read the company e-mail announcing the job opening for the position of executive assistant to Isabel Rochev. Her former EA had resigned the week before.

Diggle leaned back from where he was sitting on the edge of Felicity's desk. "No one wants to work for her – or _with _her for that matter."

Felicity thought for a minute. "Can you blame 'em? I certainly wouldn't want to – "

" – work with Isabel? Nah, me, either." Diggle shuddered and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. "Hey, I heard there's an office pool for how long Rochev's next EA will last."

"Ooooh, I want in!" Felicity grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. She pulled out her wallet. "Here's five bucks – can you put my name on the list for six days?"

"Sure thing," Diggle said, pocketing the money. "More than five business days, eh? I can see you have faith in the next EA."

The elevator doors opened, and Oliver walked toward Felicity's desk. He nodded at Diggle and then focused his attention on Felicity. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"Now this part of the secretarial arts I actually like – working on Team Arrow agendas." She adjusted her glasses and slid her stylus across her tablet. "Well, Detective Lance wants to meet with yo—"

For the second time in five minutes, the elevator doors opened, stopping Felicity in mid-sentence. Isabel walked out, and Felicity couldn't help but giggle when she saw Isabel carefully stepping over the metal grooves of the door sill.

"Damn," Diggle said, his voice low. "Nothin' good ever comes out of that elevator."

"I just came out of that elevator." Oliver cut his eyes at Diggle.

"Depending on your mood, Oliver, it's a true statement. Just sayin'," Diggle stood his ground and Felicity found herself nodding in agreement.

"Oliver," Isabel started, her voice as sharp as one of Slade's katana swords. Her jaw was so firm it looked like it had been set in concrete. No amount of cascading curls from Isabel's dark brown hair could soften its hard angles. She blew by Felicity and Diggle, ignoring them completely. "We need to go over our numbers for the second half of the year's fiscal calendar."

"Um," Felicity interrupted, walking around her desk and placing her index finger on Isabel's shoulder. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ "Speaking of calendars, don't you have an elsewhere to be?"

"Don't you have some coffee to fetch, Ms. Smoak?" Isabel barely turned to look at her.

"No, really – don't you have some VC funding to discuss with the Board of Directors."

Wha-? A Venture Capital meeting . . . today?"

"Yep - starting, like, ten minutes ago in the Moscow Conference Room. You should know how to get there. You certainly spent enough time in . . . Russia."

Diggle tried to keep from chortling. He pounded his chest with his fist a few times and got up, turning away from the desk. "Sorry – must've choked on something."

Queen Consolidated had several conference rooms, each one named for the cities of major satellite office locations. As luck would have it, the meeting Isabel was missing was in their conference room named after the Russian city.

"Now? There's a meeting now?" Alarm spread across Isabel's face, her eyes darting from Felicity to Oliver.

"As you speak." Felicity smiled.

Isabel seemed to freeze in place for a few seconds as she processed the ramifications of this meeting. Her eyes kept getting wider and wider, and the pupils dilated like a balloon filling up with air.

"Arrrgghhhhhh!" The sound escaped her lungs and gave her the momentum to move her legs. She spun on her heels and hurried to the elevator. Her hands balled into fists and her shoulders set like she was about to sack a quarterback. She pushed the call button until she heard the _Ding!_ signal. Isabel turned sideways and squeezed into the cubicle before the doors even opened up all the way and pushed the button for the conference room floor.

"Oh, and I hope you have your quarterly report and projections for the next five years ready." Felicity called out to her, ". . . and copies!"

"And doughnuts!" Diggle couldn't help but add.

The elevator doors inched together and Isabel descended to meet her fate in the Moscow Conference Room.

Felicity turned to Diggle. "I like the cream-filled ones," Felicity said, leaning her shoulder into his. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"Ahhh, I'm a glazed man myself." Diggle always enjoyed bantering with Felicity.

Oliver cleared his throat. "You hacked into Isabel's online calendar, didn't you." It was more of an assertionthan a question.

"I may have peeked at it after her EA quit." Felicity put her hand on Oliver's forearm. "I hope you don't mind. I'll stop playing around with Isabel if you want me to . . ."

"No, your meddling keeps things balanced."

"And provides great office entertainment," Diggle offered.

"Seriously, though - thank you, Felicity," Oliver looked down into her blue eyes. "Queen Consolidated doesn't need institutional funding leading to power struggles on our board."

"Something tells me we just took care of that," Felicity mused.

"That we did." Oliver clapped his palms and rubbed them together a few times. "Now, on to more important matters."

Diggle looked up and Felicity looked back on the Team Arrow agenda on her tablet. "Yes, back to Detective Lance. He wants to meet you – "

"No, something more important . . ." Oliver pulled out his wallet and grinned. "How 'bout that office pool?"

* * *

**A/N:** I have another idea for a one-shot in this collection that I hope will turn out great, but I'm still working on the storyboard for it as it's got more detail in it and might take some time to write. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this quick one-shot.

**A/N:** Y'all are too kind with all your comments – I love them all! : ))

**A/N:** The "don't you have an elsewhere to be" line that Felicity says to Isabel is borrowed from BTVS (I believe the pilot episode) where Cordelia is being rude to Xander. I've always loved that line, and it found its way into this story.


	6. Rochev's Ride

**Rochev's Ride**

**One-shot**

Oliver was shirtless, sweaty, and in major cross-fit mode as he pounded away at the lair's massive tractor tire with a sledgehammer. Roy, also shirtless, was wrapping up his hands to spar with Diggle once he arrived.

Felicity loved working in the lair. And not because of the almost-nightly ab show with Diggle, Oliver, and now Roy. That was a perk, for sure. Her IT position at Queen Consolidated had been a solid, respectable career-building job where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Hacking for Team Arrow was a dream come true with its versatility, and it really pushed her limits. She liked that. She needed that, especially since her current secret identity job as Oliver's executive assistant made her want to jump out of the high-rise office window behind her desk. Daily.

She also had to admit that she liked impressing the guys with her "hero" powers on the keyboard. She couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag, but she sure as hell could wreak havoc with wifi.

Tonight was not one of those nights, however, and she did find herself a bit, _dare she say_, bored. There was no bad guy to bust, deadly bomb to dismantle, or code to crack. She had just finished running some updates and ordering specialty arrows and thought she'd take a break.

Casting a furtive glance at the guys before opening a new window, she typed in her favorite beauty guru's web address. Felicity loved Nouveau Cheap's latest blogs on affordable cosmetics. G, the lady who operated Nouveau Cheap, always had the scoop on _every_thing, and Felicity relied on her for the latest news on fingernail polishes and lipsticks. She had heard that one of her favorite brands of polishes, Sinful Colors, had two new summer collections coming out, and she was dying to know which drugstore would stock them first.

"Yes!" Felicity clapped her hands together, scrolling down the site to see that G had posted a blog on these two collections.

"You're awfully excited," Diggle said coming down the stairs. His tie was in his hand and he was shrugging out of his suit jacket.

"Well, just, ya know, hacking into a new program," Felicity smiled up at him as she closed the window on the beauty guru's site.

Diggle smiled. "Uh-huh, so our next mission is to intercept a fingernail polish delivery for our favorite hacker?"

"I'm your _only_ hacker. And that, my friend, is not a bad idea. I'll get right on it." She giggled at the thought. "Speaking of deliveries, how was yours tonight with Isabel Rochev?"

"Fantastic, actually, because Oliver's lesser CEO half now has her own ride."

"She does?"

"Yep - that's where I took her. To the Lexus dealership on Arbor Avenue. She decided to settle in with a shiny, sporty candy apple red sedan now that she's here to stay."

Felicity snorted. "Sure - after weaseling her way into Oliver's company. Damn bitch."

Roy walked over to them. "How's this?" He held his hands out for Diggle to inspect the wrapping.

"Hmmmm, not bad, but remember to start and end at the wrist. If not, your wrap won't be as effective. It will be loose and too easy for the small joints in your hands to collapse and maybe even break."

"Guess that means I'll start over." Roy frowned and started unraveling the wrap.

"No worries - watch me do it after I get changed and then you can try again." Diggle turned to Felicity and patted her shoulder. "And then we can head out and commandeer the fingernail polish delivery truck for ya," he kidded and then headed to the back of the lair to change.

Felicity laughed, but it gave her an idea. Something that would certainly push her limits in the hacking world and provide entertainment at the same time. A smile crept across her face, much like the Grinch from the classic Dr. Seuss Christmas cartoon.

Her expression didn't escape Roy. "Oh, snap - you're up to no good. I can totally tell," Roy said. "What's up?"

"Oh . . . just thinkin' of something new to try. I might need your help. You game?"

"Sure - I love learning new things down here."

"So do I," she smiled. While she made a mental list of things she would need, she helped Roy unwrap his hands.

* * *

Roy met Felicity at the QC office building in the heart of Starling City's business district three days later, and they drove her Mini Cooper the short distance to Roosevelt Park. It was a relatively small park but had gentle rolling hills, lots of trees to provide shade, and paved walkways interspersed with benches for office workers to sit and enjoy an outdoor lunch in good weather. It was named after Theodore Roosevelt, Starling City's humble nod to the former president's achievement with the country's National Park System. Roosevelt Park was certainly no Yellowstone, but it was perfect for Felicity's test run on her newest hacking adventure.

"You sure have been quiet around the others with this thing you need my help with," Roy said as they got out of her car. "Care to elaborate now?"

"Sure - now that we're here," Felicity laughed as she popped the hatch open and pulled out a remote control device and her laptop. "Here ya go. Have you ever used a remote to control a toy car?"

"Oh, yeah," Roy said, his eyes lit up like fireworks at the memory. Guys love their cool macho toys, and Roy was no different. "I lifted one off a kid that brought one to school after Christmas vacation. Boy, that was fun as hell until I got caught."

"Well, good. I mean, not that you stole a kid's toy and got caught, but good because I don't have much experience with these handheld remotes. I'm good with a lot of tech stuff, but these remotes? Not so much."

"I'm your man, then," and he took the remote from her. "So where's the toy car?" He looked around in the back of the car.

"Right here," she said motioning her hands in her best Vanna White imitation toward her car.

"Wha -" Roy scrunched his eyebrows together and cocked his head. After a few seconds, he laughed. 'You're good, Felicity, but are you that good?"

"I'm that good. Or at least I hope I am. That's what you're here to find out."

Felicity opened up her laptop and pulled up a coding program she built. After a few clicks, she made her Mini's engine start and the lights flicker.

"Holy shit, Felicity - that's crazy cool!" Roy bounced on his feet and pumped his fist. "You're a geek gone bad."

Felicity cracked a wide grin. "I guess I am."

"How'd you do this anyway?"

"Well, I got the idea from a few hacker friends overseas who'd been dabbling in car hacking," Felicity explained. "All you really have to do to commandeer a car is access the Controller Area Network System. We tech geeks call that the CAN-bus system for short. It's basically the car's computer brains. What's new about what I did is to wire the remote to do the steering part for us."

"Sounds pretty technical to me, so . . . before my eyes glaze over and I fall into a deep sleep, let's give this car a spin, shall we?"

"Drive away, my delinquent friend," Felicity said. "It should be ready."

Roy pushed up the sleeves of his worn red hoodie. Holding the remote in both hands, he rolled his thumbs on the two dials. The car backed up.

"Hot damn, Blondie - it works!" Roy hugged Felicity, lifting her feet off the ground. "You are the bomb!"

While Roy continued moving Felicity's car around in the small parking lot, Felicity clicked away on the laptop exploring all the features she had control of now.

"Okay," she said after they had both become proficient in their partnership of car hacking her Mini. "Let's take it to the next step."

"Oh, god - you're not serious about Digg's idea to pull the heist on the fingernail polish are you?" Roy felt his man card slipping out of his jeans pocket.

Felicity roared with laughter, her shoulders shaking. "No, no. I'm more interested in a little break time diversion to make my secretary job worthwhile . . . by taking over Rochev's new red ride."

"Geeky . . . and mischievous," Roy raised his eyebrows and looked down at her. "I like it! But, um . . . does Oliver know?"

"He will from Isabel, I'm sure," Felicity giggled.

* * *

Roy hung out with Felicity running errands for her the rest of the afternoon. Oliver was tied up in meetings with investors, so he didn't have a chance to question Roy's presence.

At 6:15, the two mischief makers made their way to the parking garage. Ever the overachiever, Isabel always stayed a little later than everyone else. Felicity had been keeping tabs on her the last several days and knew that she usually left around 6:30. They positioned themselves out of sight behind a pair of large concrete beams.

Soon after Felicity opened up the CAN-bus program on her laptop, the elevator doors opened up and Isabel Rochev walked out digging in her purse for her keys.

"Ready for some fun, Isabel?" Felicity said, her voice low but full of amusement.

Isabel pressed the remote key fob and the doors automatically unlocked. _Click._ Felicity glanced up from the computer just in time to see Isabel pulling on the door handle several times.

Felicity and Roy looked at each other. She smiled and he gave her the thumbs up sign. When Isabel pressed the fob again, Felicity clicked again. After two more rounds of unlocking and locking the doors, Felicity decided to let Isabel get in her shiny new Lexus.

Isabel started the car up only to have it shut off again. Roy almost doubled over trying not to laugh out loud. She tried again. And again.

"Damn it!" She said loud enough for Roy and Felicity to hear through the car windows.

"Hmmmm . . ." Felicity whispered over to Roy. "That gives me another feature to try."

Felicity allowed the Lexus to stay on this time but typed in a quick command. She looked over her glasses. It worked. She pumped her hand in the air widened her fushia lips into a cheerful grin as all four windows rolled down. She typed a few more commands in and let them go up and down randomly.

"You ready for me now?" Roy mouthed over to her.

"Have fun," she mouthed back, holding back a giggle.

Roy took command of the car backing it out of its parking space.

"What the fu -" Isabel uttered.

Her eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open. With the windows continuing to roll up and down, Roy and Felicity could hear her clearly now. She screamed, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

Frantic, Isabel tried opening the door but it wouldn't budge, thanks to Felicity's meddling. Roy put the car in drive and slowly started steering it in circles with the remote.

Felicity bit her lip to keep from laughing. The expressions on Isabel's face were priceless, and Felicity wished she could record video footage of Isabel's wild ride and post somewhere.

"Okay, Roy," Felicity glanced at her laptop's clock. They needed to get to the foundry. "Let's slow it down so she can get out now."

Roy brought the Lexus to a stop. Isabel stayed still, her hands clenched on the steering wheel at the classic "10 and 2" position. Her whimpering was audible from the car as she looked around to see if anyone was in the garage.

Several seconds passed, and Isabel decided to climb through the car window. Hers was partly up, so she had to crawl over to the passenger side. While she was in mid-crawl, Roy shifted over to Felicity. Isabel hauled herself out of the small window.

_Rip. _

Felicity leaned toward Roy. "Oops - poor thing. Her slit just got longer."

"Oh, my god . . ." Isabel said, sniffing. She wiped her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. "I'm gonna be sick," she muttered as she dry heaved by the front tire.

Felicity punched in a code and all the windows started rolling up.

"Oh, no!" Isabel cried out and reached in the car to snatch her purse out just in time. She stood there panting.

Felicity had one last trick up her sleeve. The car horn.

It was deafening in the quiet garage, echoing off the concrete walls. Isabel shrieked and scurried over to the elevator and back to the safety of the building.

Felicity and Roy looked at each other. Roy reached his hand up with is palm out, and Felicity returned the high five. And the laughter came. It was loud, and it was long. Their shoulders shook and their sides hurt, but it was totally worth it.

* * *

Oliver and Diggle were sparring escrima style in the lair when Diggle's phone buzzed. He held up his hand to stop Oliver and scanned at the screen as he took the call. It was a completely one-sided conversation lasting all of a minute.

"Give me about twenty minutes, and I'll be there. In street clothes, though, because I'm off duty." His eyes rolled to the ceiling and he breathed in for a deep sigh.

"I know that look and that sigh, Digg," Oliver said. "I thought you were finished driving with Isabel. Doesn't she have a new car?"

"Well," Diggle started. "She did but then it acted all funny tonight in the parking garage. Horn honking, doors locking and unlocking, car starting up and driving itself. She called the Lexus dealership and they suggested short circuiting of the car's computer system."

Oliver cocked his eyebrow. "Uh . . . do we think that is a short circuiting of the Felicity variety?"

"Oh, yeah," Diggle replied. "Isabel just got Smoaked."

* * *

**A/N: What do y'all think? I, for one, giggled the whole time I wrote this story. LOL Also, I read an article recently on car hacking that gave me the idea for this story. Scary, eh? And . . . Nouveau Cheap is a REAL website. I frequent it quite a bit - and her Instagram account, too. She's awesome! :))**

**Also, if you have any prompts for me in this collection, please feel free to share. **

******I'll do my best to turn them into stories. :)**


	7. Foolin' with Facebook

**A/N: **Refers to "Rochev's Ride" (_chapter 6 one-shot in this collection_). Also, a bit of lighthearted, mischievous fluff this time with a nod to the World Cup in Brazil. :)

* * *

**Foolin' with Facebook**

**One-shot**

"It looks fantastic, Roy," Felicity said, running her hand with bright pink fingernails along the top as she appraised her latest purchase from IKEA. "Thanks for coming over and helping with it."

"Hey, no prob," he said. "You're right. That top piece was too heavy and bulky for ya to handle by yourself." He was dressed in his track pants today with his dark red hoodie instead of his usual jeans.

The doorbell rang. "Aha! Pizza's here," Felicity said, taking her wallet with her to answer the door. She laid the pizza box from Slice on the newly built Stenstorp kitchen cart and gathered up some plates and napkins. The solid oak table featured a natural finish on top with painted white legs and would provide much needed counter space in Felicity's kitchen.

Roy put away the screwdrivers in her toolbox. "Hey," he said, holding up the allen wrench that came with the Stenstorp cart, "what do you wanna do with this?"

"Oh, man - toss it," Felicity laughed. "They give one away with every piece of furniture they sell. I must have twenty of them around my place."

She lifted the lid of the Slice pizza box, and the delicious aroma of a supreme pizza loaded with everything from peppers to ham and extra cheese permeated her small kitchen. "Who needs scented candles when you can just open a Slice, right?"

Roy laughed as he pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up and reached for a slice of the supreme pizza. "No kidding," he said. Steam rose in the air and strands of melted cheese formed as he lifted his slice out of the box and plopped it on his plate. "God, this is gonna be so freakin' good. Oh, and hurry . . . the match is about to start back." Roy lifted his plate in the direction of the television in her den.

"Be right there. I would offer you a beer . . . but are you even 21 yet?" Felicity honestly wasn't sure she knew.

"Close enough, but no thanks. Water'll be fine. I'm heading to The Glades for some free running after this," he said. "And I sure as hell don't wanna misjudge scaling a rooftop from too many beers," he added, shuddering at the thought.

"Definitely not," Felicity walked toward the den with her slice and drinks, a bottle of water for him and a Kona Longboard for her. "But that explains your track pants. I took you for a jeans guy when you were out and about."

"Yep. Um -" Roy looked at her sofa, not quite sure where to sit. "You gotta love affair with pillows or sumthin'?"

Felicity laughed. "Noooo, but I'm finding it's a conversation starter, that's for sure." She moved two - or five - onto the carpet to make room for them.

They settled in just as the second half of the Brazil-Cameroon match was starting in the World Cup. It was in Brazil this year and their fans were amped up for the event.

"I wonder if Neymar will score again," Felicity said just as Fred scored with a header. "Ohmigod!" She jumped up. "Didja see that?"

"Fuck yeah, what a header!" Roy pumped his fist at the screen.

Felicity went back to the kitchen for two more slices of pizza when her tablet's screen lit up on the coffee table in front of Roy. It was a Facebook notification. "Hey, Felicity, you got a Facebook mes-" he squinted his eyes. "Huh? Is this your tablet?"

Felicity had climbed over Roy's knees, depositing one of the slices of pizza on his plate. "Yeah, it's mine."

"But . . ." Roy cocked his head and looked straight at her, "that Facebook notification was for Isabel Rochev."

"Yeah, about that." Felicity paused and Roy waited, taking another bite of the supreme pizza. "I am loyal to my friends. Very loyal. That's how I got started with Team Arrow anyway back when Walter Steele went missing."

Roy nodded. He knew of Walter from Thea. "So you don't like how she's weaseled her way into the family company. I totally get loyalty. It runs thick with me, too." He reached over and tapped her knee lightly and leaned in with his shoulder. "So, the joy ride with her Lexus wasn't enough?" Roy laughed.

Felicity giggled and shook her head. "Not even close."

She tapped her screen a few times and pulled up Isabel's Facebook wall just as a soccer player for Cameroon got a yellow card. Looking at the replay, they both winced at the tumble the Brazilian player took. There were about ten minutes left of regulation play in the game, but Brazil seemed to have things under control being up three to one. Of course, the United States thought they were in good shape in their match against Portugal earlier in the tournament. Nothing was a sure bet until the game clock stopped, that was for sure.

"Well," Felicity said, focusing on her tablet again, "originally I was going to hack her Facebook account, but I discovered she didn't have one."

"Wha-? Wait, I saw . . ." Roy chewed on his thumb, tilting his head. He was in major think mode right now. And just like that, he had it. "You created a Facebook account for her."

"I did."

"And you're pretending to be her."

"I am."

He looked at her, a grin spreading across his face, "but I bet you were bummed you didn't get to hack your way into her account."

"Pffft, on Facebook?" She laughed. "Puh-lease, I could do that in a nanosecond with both hands tied behind my back. I was looking forward to fun pranks like making her posts totally private so no one ever saw them and tagging her in bizarre photos - little things like that, but this has been so much more fun."

"So you've created the entire thing? Everything on her wall?"

"Yep."

"Pictures?"

"Everything. Posts, pictures, comments. Everything. I have a couple of Photoshop geniuses that have helped me out in return for some help in stuff I'm good at."

"You're good at anything tech related, Felicity," Roy felt like he was pointing out the obvious.

"Well, stuff like Photoshop does take time, and I do Oliver at night." Felicity cringed. "I mean, I do Arrow at nig- _Jeez_! I just made it worse."

Roy laughed. He usually wasn't around when she let an innuendo slip, and he had heard from Diggle it was quite entertaining. Felicity really was adorable, and he marveled at the self-control Oliver must possess to not act on his obvious feelings for her. Instead he had started shacking up with Sara. Roy shook his head and took a swig of water.

"So, anyway, what's your plan with Isabel's Facebook account?"

"Well, as it turns out from all her high school classmates that she has a fifteen-year high school reunion coming up this next month. And," she sucked her teeth, "it's so sad she's been such a bitch to everyone in their posts."

"Oh, boy . . ."

"Yeah, when her friend Robert posted about going to a local beach in Oregon, she bragged about going to Aruba. When Clara got a management position in an accounting firm, she belittled her by bragging about being co-CEO of a Fortune 500 company. And she did that with all 300 of her friends. Constantly. Put it this way - she won't be winning Miss Congeniality."

"Oh, hell no. She'll be winning cold shoulders and eat shit stares." Roy nodded at Felicity. "You've got spunk, Felicity, and you look out for those who have been wronged. I like that."

Felicity smiled. "Thanks." The announcers got loud and they both turned back to the television screen. Brazil had just scored another goal making the match four to one in favor of Brazil.

"Alright!" He gave Felicity a high five.

The match ended minutes later with a final score of four to one in Brazil's favor. "Wow, that was exciting to watch," Felicity said as they got up.

"Yep," Roy took his plate back to the kitchen, "about as much fun as watching you pull pranks on Isabel."

Felicity laughed, winking at him. "Good, 'cause I'm nowhere near finished."

* * *

**A/N:** **WOW!** I am floored at the response to this collection! Thank you all so much for the faves, follows, and feedback. You guys CRACK ME UP with the feedback - I laugh every time I look them over. Oh, and I promise I'm not really like this at work with my colleagues. LOL Also, **YouWillNeverKnowMyNameForSure** and **shannbaskets** gave me two suggestions for upcoming one-shots. They are in progress and will be posted within the next couple of weeks. I need to finish up "_Good People,"_ "_Arrow Up," _and_ "Feel Me"_ first. They are both multi-chapter stories (not one-shots like this one) and worth a look if you haven't read them yet. **Thanks again for the response to Bringing Down the Beast.** It's a helluva lot of fun to write!


	8. Kid Power

**A/N: ** Just a quick reminder that the stories in this collection are one-shots and not related unless otherwise noted. Aaaaand a special thanks to **shannbaskets** for suggesting a one-shot involving kids - they're coming up in Part II. :)

Okay, I don't know what happened, but this one ended up with the tiniest bit of Olicity. Don't blink or you'll miss it. LOL And . . . BTW, what's the Roy/Thea ship name? This story will have a bit of that, too, in Part II. Enjoy!

* * *

**Kid Power: Part I**

**Two-part One-shot**

"That's _not_ a good idea," Isabel said, her jaw set and tilted up as she looked down at Oliver.

Oliver stood up and walked around his desk, standing right in front of her. She had finally gotten on his nerves. "You not liking it lets me know that it's a great idea. It's on, Isabel. See you Sunday at 12:30. And," his eyes flickered on her attire, "just a suggestion - don't wear your red power suit."

"We're CEOs, not picnic planners," her mouth turning down at the corners as she spat out the words.

"It all goes together, Isabel. The best companies have leaders who care about the work morale as much as the work production," Oliver leaned close to her ear and lowered his voice. "It's okay to have fun."

"Fun is not my priority. Making money is."

"No surprise there. Life is a banquet, or in this case, a picnic." He shook his head and fixed his eyes on her. "And you, Isabel? You are standing by the table starving to death."

She glared at him and turned away, hands balling up into fists and heels clicking on the marble floor. The elevator doors opened just as Isabel reached it. Felicity, Diggle, Roy, and Thea rolled out hand trucks loaded down with cardboard boxes, and Felicity's wheel managed to clip Isabel's high-heeled pump.

"Ouuuch!" Isabel hissed. "What a disaster in the making - you and this stupid company picnic," she walked into the elevator and bent down to inspect her pump for any scuff marks.

"Well, if you call pre-sales being through the roof on these company picnic cookbooks a disaster," Felicity's grin was as wide as a river, "then I guess you're right. Oh, and don't forget there are cameras on these elevators. You don't want a soundbite of your comments floating around the company e-mail."

Isabel's face contorted and she took a step toward Felicity, raising her fist. Diggle stepped between them.

"You wouldn't dare, you little short-skirted bi-" Isabel stopped mid-threat as the glint from the elevator's camera lens caught her eye. Her mouth hung open as the elevator doors started to close.

"Is that Oliver's partner?" Roy asked, sucking his teeth and looking at the others for confirmation. "Who pissed in her cornflakes this morning?"

Diggle nodded. "She needs a Valium."

"Or three," Felicity added, tilting her hand truck back so it would roll.

"She needs more than that. She needs to get laid," Thea said.

Roy shivered. "Not me. I would not wanna sleep with that woman."

"Oh, that happened in Russia," Felicity let go of her hand truck as her hands flew to her mouth. "Gawd, I can't believe I let that slip!" The hand truck hit the floor, and the jolt made the boxes teeter. Roy reached over to steady them.

"Don't worry, Felicity," Thea touched her forearm, "I'm sure everyone in this building knows about it. Secrets like that have a way of getting out."

Diggle nodded, raising his eyebrows.

They stopped at Felicity's desk. Felicity turned to Roy and Thea. "Thanks guys, for helping out this afternoon. Are you both still planning on helping out Sunday?"

"Wouldn't miss it," said Roy. "I like hangin' out with kids."

"Yep," Thea agreed. "I'm also all for helping our family name out in the media these days since, well, you know . . . the trial and all. I'm in."

Oliver met them at Felicity's desk and opened up the top box on Diggle's hand truck. "Wow - look at all the recipes," he said as he flipped through the cookbook. "Great idea, Felicity - you got a huge response!"

"People like to share recipes," she said, picking up her own copy to look through. "Just hop on Pinterest or Facebook and you'll see them posted on an hourly basis."

"I think they like the idea of where the proceeds are going."

"Yep," Diggle agreed. "And that part was all you, Oliver." He gave Oliver a light punch on the shoulder.

"Anything I can do to help out The Glades, I will do it, and the homeless shelter can use all the help they can get right now." Oliver said, his voice growing quiet.

"And your employees appreciate your efforts," Diggle said. "Believe me when I say they're not going unnoticed."

"I'm not doing this to make myself look good." Oliver's eyes turned dark and his stance wasn't quite as tall. "I just want to help." He walked back to his desk taking a deep sigh with him, and Felicity knew he was thinking about the Undertaking. She wondered when he would ever stop blaming himself for not thinking that Merlyn was diabolical enough to have a spare bomb waiting in the wings.

Felicity finished up her afternoon tying up loose ends before the weekend started. As she gathered up her purse and tablet, she peered into Oliver's office. He still looked a little distant to her, and she walked over to him.

"Hey, it's quittin' time," she said, offering a smile and pointing toward the clock on his wall. "I'm gonna skip lair duty tonight if it's okay. I need to make some chocolate-covered pretzels for the picnic, and I have a ton of errands to run tomorrow."

The thought of Felicity doing something domestic brought Oliver out of his funk. His eyes widened slightly, and he tilted his head up at her as he leaned back in his chair. "You bake?"

"I microwave," she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "These pretzels are a huge hit with kids, and that's really what's important."

Oliver smiled and considered her comment. "You're right," he said standing up and coming around to her. "That is what's important. You always help me see that, too. Thank you, Felicity," he touched the top of her shoulder and let his hand trail down her arm until he held her hand for the smallest second. She hoped he didn't notice the goosebumps popping up along her arm.

"You're welcome, Oliver." A silent moment passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes. Felicity cleared her throat. "I, um, better get going to do whatever it is I need to do. Lots o' stuff and all. Big day on Sunday, ya know."

Oliver laughed. "Yeah, so I've heard." He watched her walk out of his office to the elevators. It occurred to him, standing there in his office, that he had never seen Felicity anywhere other than the QC building, the lair, or on the field. There was that one time when she met him at a coffee shop, but it was only to hand over the list of names Walter had given her. He walked over to his chair, grabbed his suit jacket off the back, and headed to the elevators. Musing about her and what she would be like in a normal, everyday setting like a company picnic, a smile played across his lips.

* * *

******A/N: The line about life being a banquet was a nod to a favorite movie musical from my childhood, ****__****Auntie Mame********- although I'm not nearly as old as the movie. LOL**


	9. Kid Power -- Part II

**Kid Power: Part II**

**Two-part One-shot**

Thea and Oliver made their way across the parking lot of Roosevelt Park. It was filling up and families were meeting at the entrance to make their way with potluck side dishes and desserts to the pavilion Queen Consolidated rented. "I don't understand why we had to park so far away when there are plenty of good spots up near the entrance to the park." Thea huffed as she lugged the huge insulated container of cold cuts, cheese slices, and other sandwich fillers.

"Because we're just doing what's right. Let someone else have the better spot," he replied, carrying two identical containers, one in each hand.

Roy spotted them across the parking lot and came running over to help Thea, his shoes crunching on the gravel. "Hey, ya know there are a few parking spots left up toward the entrance."

"Do tell," Thea said, rolling her eyes toward her brother.

Screeching tires sounded behind them, and Roy and Oliver turned ready to spring into action. Isabel came roaring past in her red Lexus and wheeled into the spot nearest the entrance. Dust clouds rose up around the trio, and Thea coughed as she fanned it away from her face. Isabel slammed her car door shut and glared at Oliver.

"I guess your partner didn't get your memo to park in Siberia," Thea muttered.

"I'm here," Isabel said, tossing her head and turning toward the entrance. Her heel caught in a few pebbles as she crossed onto the pathway from the parking lot. Her black dress hiked up above her knees as she fell. A couple of kids walking by with soccer balls pointed and giggled.

"A black dress and heels at a park in 85-degree weather? You did tell her it's a picnic, not a funeral." Thea looked up at Oliver. "Right?"

Oliver sighed. "She knows." And he made his way over to help her get up. Although he could sense the company picnic would be a success, Oliver didn't need a crystal ball to see that Isabel would find a way to make herself look bad.

Roosevelt Park was a great location for Queen Consolidated's picnic. A relatively small park, it had gentle rolling hills, lots of trees to provide shade, and paved walkways interspersed with benches for office workers to sit and enjoy an outdoor lunch in good weather. Named after Theodore Roosevelt, it was Starling City's humble nod to the former president's achievement with the country's National Park System. QC had rented a huge pavilion near the children's playground that had recently been installed.

Felicity stood by a table in the middle of pavilion greeting people and helping to organize the food as people arrived.

"Hi," Oliver smiled at her as he and Thea walked over. He noticed she wore her blonde hair pulled back in a looser, lower ponytail today. "Where would you like these?" he asked, holding out the food they brought.

"Over here," she said and moved the bottles of mayo and mustard out of the way to make room.

Oliver came around the table and his eyes immediately flickered to her legs. He'd seen them countless times with the dresses and skirts she always wore. Why his eyes felt the need to check them out when seeing her in shorts for the first time, he didn't know. He cleared his throat and set the dishes down, running his hands down the sides of his own shorts.

"Nice turnout," he said looking around as a frisbee sailed into the pavilion straight toward the drinks that had been poured.

Without thinking, he stepped up on the bench and lunged over the table intercepting the frisbee in midair. He landed in a fluid movement bouncing right back up into the air and executed a searing bullet pass back to its owner. The teen caught it and held on to it earning a nod from Oliver. Several people were there, clapping and cheering at the display.

"Hey, Mr. Queen, I want you on my team. C'mon," the teenager said, shaking his hand out from the force of the frisbee he just caught.

"You got it," Oliver replied, giving him a thumbs up.

"Um, good save, Oliver," Felicity laughed. " And I'm glad to see so many people bringing their kids, too" she added as a little girl in pigtails walked by them and snuck a potato chip from a bowl at the edge of the table.

"I'm not," Isabel said, walking up to them. "One word, Oliver. Liability."

"I would've gone with fun," Oliver countered and walked off to join a quick round of frisbee.

Felicity bent down to offer the little girl more chips in an effort to hide her laughter over Oliver's comeback. "Here ya go, sweetie."

"Thank you," said the little girl, smiling up at Felicity. She lost her smile, though, as she glanced over at Isabel, her crack about kids not going unnoticed. She may not have understood what liability meant, but she picked up on Isabel's body language just fine.

Thea and Roy came up to the table holding hands, and he raised up the insulated bag. Roy looked at Isabel. "Hey, where would you like this?"

"Do I look like I care?"

"No, you look like a -"

Thea squeezed his hand and Felicity reached over to take the bag. He returned Isabel's glare in kind until he caught the sweet scent of sugar in the air. Looking down he saw he was standing in the midst enough cakes, pies, brownies and other delectable goodies of sweetness to open a bakery.

"What are these?" He asked as he picked up something slender and covered in white chocolate.

"Oh, I brought those," Felicity perked up that somebody noticed her contribution. "They're chocolate-covered pretzel sticks. Try one." Roy grabbed a handful. "Or more."

"Day-uuuum, Blondie," Roy said, munching the treat, "these are so freakin' gooood!" Two older boys walked by with a hacky sack. "Hey, I haven't played that in, like, forever. Can I join in?" he asked, grabbing one more handful of the pretzels and following them toward the playground.

Kids have an infallible radar for the best sweets to eat, and they picked up on the chocolate-covered pretzels the second Roy entered the playground area with them.

"See that nice lady over there?" Roy asked.

"The one in black?" a boy asked.

"God, no. She's mean as a snake. The one with the blonde ponytail," he told the small group that gathered around him as he pointed toward Felicity. "Her name is Ms. Felicity, and she made them. They're at the end of the table on the right."

One of the older kids yelled, "Let's go!" and they swarmed the table like bees on spring flowers.

A few minutes Oliver came back, sweat glistening on his skin from playing frisbee with the teens. "Hey, where are those pretzels you brought? I wanted to try your 'cooking'." He beamed at Felicity expectantly as he grabbed a cup of iced tea from the table.

"Oh, they're right . . . here," she looked at the empty bowl she had brought. Two little girls giggled as they put the last remaining pretzels into their mouths.

"Ms. Felicity, these are so good!"

"Yeah," the other girl said. "They make me smile all over my face!" Oliver and Felicity broke into laughter.

Isabel wasn't amused. "They'll be on a sugar high all afternoon," she said, peering down at them. The girls stuck their tongue out at Isabel and ran back to the playground.

Thea had all she could take of Isabel for the moment and followed the girls to the playground, resisting the urge to stick her own tongue out at Oliver's CEO partner. She saw Roy from a distance and smiled. He was swinging effortlessly across the monkey bars as he showed kids what to do. When he finished, he helped those brave enough to try it and guided them along.

"You're a natural," she said walking up to him when he took a break. She wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"I've learned a lot from volunteering at the YMCA," Roy said. "Kids are innocent but so smart at the same time. They can really figure things out." He nodded toward the kids now traversing the monkey bars with ease.

"They've sure figured Isabel out," Thea said. "I haven't met a one who's had anything nice to say about her yet."

"Hell would have to freeze over first," he said. "But not for you. They've all been telling me how 'cute' you are," he covered her hands with his. "Like I don't know." He laughed and turned around to plant a kiss on her lips.

A chorus of "aaaaaah, woooo wooooooos" filled the playground as the kids witnessed Roy's affection.

Thea blushed and headed back to the pavilion just as Diggle and his nephew A. J. walked by. He waved at Oliver and the others and headed to the playground to help out. Like Roy, he enjoyed working with kids.

After mingling with staff, playing another round of frisbee, and showing off a little for the kids on the playground, Oliver gathered everyone's attention and gave a short speech.

". . . and," Oliver said in summation, "I appreciate what each and every one of you do every day at Queen Consolidated. No one person can run a company by him . . ." Oliver looked at Isabel, ". . .or _her _self. It takes a united front. And speaking of teamwork, let's tackle this mountain of food we all pitched in to bring today." Polite laughter broke out and people started lining up at the buffet table.

Oliver and the rest of the gang stood to the side until the line dwindled.

"This has been a huge success, Oliver," Diggle said.

"Yeah," Felicity agreed, "and I noticed that people are sitting with others from different departments. That is always the mark of a good social function."

Roy handed a plastic plate back to Isabel. She yanked it out of his hand and started fanning herself with it. "Damn bitch," he whispered to Thea and Felicity. "Her face would crack like glass if she ever tried to smile."

A little boy who was coming up to Roy to ask if he would be at the playground again after lunch saw Isabel's display of rudeness. "You need to take a time out," he said, tilting his head way back to he could look her straight in the eyes.

"A what?" she glared down at him.

Undaunted, the boy continued. "Or at least a nap. That always helps when I'm grumpy."

The boy was rather vocal and everyone around snickered into their napkins or pretended to cough. Things settled down and everyone chatted anything non-work related. The staff and families of Queen Consolidated were having a great time. Just like the staff members did, Oliver and the others decided to sit separately to make new connections.

As most people finished, they helped clean up. While the adults did the boring clean up work, the kids all rushed back to the playground. Several of them huddled together like a team on a football field going over their next play. One kid even had a stick and was drawing a diagram in the dirt. They broke apart and two of the girls that had been in the group and walked toward Isabel.

". . . and be sure to have a report itemizing all the expenditures for this . . . picnic on my desk by lunch tomorrow," Isabel growled at Felicity.

The little girls exchanged a look, each standing on either side of Isabel and grabbing her hands. "Come with us," they said as though they'd rehearsed it.

"What? Why?" Isabel protested, shaking her head.

Oliver leaned over. "No, you should go," nodding in the direction, glad that the kids were showing interest in doing anything with her.

Roy came behind Felicity having heard the exchange about the report and put his hands her shoulders. "She reeeeally doesn't like you very much."

"The feeling's mutual."

A wail came from the playground and Team Arrow, as well as a few parents, made their way to check on the kids. The group of teenagers that had played hacky sack with Roy earlier stood to the side, their shoulders shaking from laughter. Somehow Isabel had fallen in her ill-chosen stiletto heels and was covered in dirt and wood chips. Diggle made his way to help her up, but she wildly waved him away. No sooner had she stood and straightened out her dress than a young boy's drink fell out of his hand with such force that the trajectory equation of the liquid spewing out of the red solo cup was equal to that of an M16 assault rifle, and not an ounce landed anywhere but on Isabel's dress.

"Welp," breathed Roy, eyes wide, " that oughta cool the bitch down."

As sheer luck would have it, another boy sailed around on the playground swing rope like Tarzan swinging on a vine through the jungle. He jumped off landing in the sand pit right in front of Isabel. Sand sprayed all over her wet dress sticking like glue.

It was like watching a train wreck. People were frozen, not particularly wanting to help. Whether it was because of the ferocity she displayed to Diggle just now or the rudeness she to displayed to everyone throughout the afternoon, it was hard to tell. But they were unable to turn away, standing in disbelief at the orchestration of the unfolding drama.

Four boys dropped down from the monkey bars, like paratroopers. Wood chips shot up as they landed pelting her legs in rapid-fire succession.

Isabel stood, fists and jaws clenched tight as clams, and veins popped out on her neck like train tracks on a map. Her body shook slowly at first and then crescendoed into a violent shaking. Holding her head back and her mouth wide open, she unleashed a massive roar fit for a lion on an African savanna. She held her head low, and stormed up the path on her toes so her heels wouldn't sink into the dirt pathway, disappearing over a hill. Moments later the unmistakable sound of tires spinning on gravel reached their ears, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Damn," muttered one of the teens close to Oliver and the group. "I wish I was young enough to do this and get away with it." His friends double over with laughter.

"Impressive," Diggle said, cupping his hand over his mouth so only Roy, Oliver, and Felicity heard him. "Sign them up for Team Arrow."

"Hell," Roy cocked his head, "we could retire and let them keep the city safe."

"Yeah," Felicity nodded, clearly impressed with their plan. "Who needs a vigilante when you have a playground full of kids to dole out justice?"

* * *

Oliver walked into his office the next morning wondering what the day would hold. Mondays were, well, Mondays, after all. Felicity had texted him that she and Diggle were out and about distributing the cookbooks of the staff recipes.

As he rounded his desk, something in his office chair caught his eye. It was too much to hope it would be Isabel's resignation letter. Instead he discovered a small gift bag. He reached in brushing past the tissue paper and pulled out . . . a Ziploc baggie of chocolate-covered pretzels. An immediate smile played across his lips as he sat in his chair. Felicity's thoughtfulness, as an employee, partner, and friend, never ceased to amaze him. He pulled apart the baggie, and the sweet smell of chocolate wafted into the air. One bite was enough to understand why these pretzels disappeared like magic at the picnic. He munched on the unexpected treat knowing the bag would be completely empty by the time she came back for him to thank her.

* * *

**A/N:** Y'all continue to floor me with all the reviews/feedback! Thank you so much! Letting me know what y'all like helps so much!

Oh, and a kind guest just left a review asking for the **chocolate-covered pretzel recipe** - I'll post a pic collage on my Instagram account (**stepstate**) around 12:00EST today (7/6/14). Thanks for asking - it's simple to do, and they really are *very* good and quite the crowd pleaser!

I juuuuuuust posted a *brand* new multi-chapter story called **"****Worth the Trouble" **yesterday. If you like my writing style, you might wanna check it out. There is a bit of Felicity battling with Isabel in it as well. :D


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